It's Evergreen
by zkcaskett
Summary: He likes her. She understands the power of grammar and that's just… hot. For some reason, he's the one left a little dumb struck. He doesn't know why his suave has suddenly left him, and of course it all had to happen when in the face this beautiful, intriguing woman. AU: Meeting in the public library.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Something I have been working on lately; I hope you like it. _

He is looking for a seat that might facilitate writing, one that is not too cut off from the flow of people entering and exiting the establishment, but just enough so that the creative juices can flow without interruption. Looking around, he finds himself content to have wound up here once again when inspiration has yet to strike. The library does that to him, its environment captivating and stimulating. He found out a long time ago that there is no place like one filled with the works of the people he aspires to compare to, and those who do the comparing, to initiate the flow of images that flit through his usually untamable imagination.

Making his way across the room, he has his mind set on finding the perfect spot for what he has planned. Things have been hectic lately. His mother has temporarily set up her things in his loft. Temporarily being the operative word in the above sentence although he knows full well what her recent arrangements mean for the long term occupation of the upstairs guest room. He likes to think he is not the man they portray on Page 6, but nonetheless, the arrangement doesn't leave much room for intimacy with anyone.

Being recently divorced, for the second time, is not easy; especially considering that Gina is still in his life and constantly breathing down his neck for the next chapters of his book. A book that is supposed to be in progress- supposed to be-. He's considered finding a new publisher but her efficacy has proven to be quite rewarding. Despite her flaws and the fact that they didn't work out, he won't deny that she is good at what she does.

Shaking his head, Rick continues across the rows of desks; the last thing he wants or needs right now, is to be thinking about Gina. That woman is definitely not helping with inspiration.

He's made up his mind on a seat in the corner of the room facing the double doors of the entrance when a particular sight stops him.

There's a girl- a woman rather- sitting at a nearby table. Usually he wouldn't be stopped in his tracks at the sight of someone simply reading in the library, but there's something there.

Her hair is light brown, cascading down the front of her pale blouse, her eyebrows knit together in concentration, engrossed in the world that has captivated her seemingly inviting imagination. Her posture radiates affirmation but, as he looks more attentively, he sees comfort.

She's here to relax, to be swept off her feet by the all-encompassing tale that – he focuses on the book- Patterson, has effectively woven for her.

Huh.

Crime and Mystery. It isn't every day he encounters a woman of such taste; at least not one with such a striking figure and features; one's that hold his gaze captive. As much as he wishes to push forward and seek her out, something keeps him rooted in place.

It's her determination. The way her gaze hungrily drifts across the pages at a steady pace. How she absorbs every piece of information, like every minor detail is equally as important as the last. Suddenly he notices the corner of her mouth lifts slowly in a ghost of a smile and her eyes get softer, happy. It's like she knew. She knew what was going to happen and then it _did_ and her smug little grin is proof that this brings her some sort of satisfaction, or gratification.

Her fleeting joy is contagious and he finds his lips tugging up in a grin at her quickly retreating surge of emotion. It's not that she no longer looks happy. But the delight has passed and the plot thickens. He observes as she refocuses her eyes on the page and unconsciously pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. It's one of the sexiest things he's ever seen.

It kills him to interrupt, to burst her perfectly crafted bubble, but he has to be a part of it, has to share whatever world she's living in with her.

As his feet move him forward of their own accord, he finds himself directly in front of her. He has no idea what to say. He's never approached a stranger in a library. When she doesn't look up, he clears his throat. Startled, she looks up and her eyes widen.

He wonders if the blush he notices creeping up her neck and up to her cheeks has to with his presence or simply with the fact that she is taken off guard. But then it's his turn to startle as he notices her eyes. He doesn't know what he had been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't that. They are a swirl of hazel and green, with specs of gold splattered proportionately, here and there. He's never seen anything like them. They're beautiful.

Shaking himself out of his trance, he clears his throat again.

"Is anyone sitting here?" he points to the empty chair next to her.

"No," she answers as if unsure of what to make of his unexpected approach.

"May I?" he asks, pulling it back. She nods giving him a perplexed look as if to convey her confusion but then quickly turns back to her book. Apparently, she's unaware of his sudden fascination with her.

He sets up his laptop, but he doesn't take his focus off of her and it seems to be throwing her off. Every now and then, she looks up from her book and their eyes meet, but only for a second as she glances back down again, seemingly avoiding his gaze. He grins, proud that his presence is affecting her focus.

"So, crime, huh?" He asks out of the blue. He really wants to hear her voice.

She wasn't expecting him to talk to her. "Excuse me?"

"The genre. You like it."

"That wasn't a question," she retorts.

"What?" He doesn't really understand what she means.

"Well, you didn't ask me if I liked crime novels. You stated it. And I wasn't sure what I was supposed to answer."

Oh. He likes her. She understands the power of grammar and that's just… _hot._ For some reason, he's the one left a little dumb struck. He doesn't know why his suave has suddenly left him, and of course it all had to happen when in the face this beautiful, intriguing woman. He's usually a lot smoother; a lot more at ease with words and at forming eloquent sentences but for some reason this stranger is different. He can't say he doesn't enjoy a challenge.

"I guess you're right. Should I have asked a question?"

Leaning her back against the seat, she looks at him, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. "You didn't, but you've been staring at me for the past five minutes and it would be getting creepy if you didn't have a question to ask."

"You find my staring creepy?"

"It's a little disconcerting is all," she rolls her eyes and he sees the corner of her lips lift up like he did before when she was still entranced by the imagery of the pages before her. He wants to see it again. He wants to be the reason behind it again.

"How so?" he can't help but ask.

"Well, it's just that people don't usually stare, it's not really appropriate."

"What do they usually do, then?"

"I didn't major in psychology but I can tell you what they don't do. They don't sit next to you in the public library when there are more than a dozen empty desks in the room." He mockingly narrows his eyes at that. He knows she doesn't really mind his sitting here.

"But what if they wanted to strike up a conversation?" He has to keep asking questions because her voice is nothing like he imagined. It's rich and full, just like her lips, and at the sound of it he sounds exactly the way they usually make him out to be on page six, but to be fair, this woman is throwing his game and he likes it. A lot.

"Then they'd ask a question. But you didn't; you stared. So what is it exactly that you want?"

She's something else. The way she analyzed their entire interaction with one another was entirely too cute for his liking. She might not have majored in Psychology but it couldn't have been anything too far off. He's taken with her. He knows that much. He also knows the notion is ridiculous because they haven't even been talking for a full five minutes. But he's also acutely aware of the fact that in this instant he wants only one thing and it's for her to keep talking.

"I've been asking questions throughout this conversation; wouldn't that infer that I'd like for the conversation to keep going?"

"Why? Why would you want the conversation to keep going?"

"Why not?"

"Stop that!" She glares, although he can see it's not genuine. She's not disliking their conversation, he can tell that much. Although she does look kind of annoyed.

"Stop what?"

"Stop questioning me. This isn't an interrogation." Something law oriented. That's his best guess by now. Her occupation has to consist of something that would keep her mind alert, active on a daily basis, but with human relations. She's not the closed off type.

"I thought you said I had to ask questions to keep out conversation up."

"But that doesn't mean every sentence that comes out of your mouth needs to be a question."

"How else am I supposed to learn more?" She huffs out a laugh and he can't help but smile.

"About what?" She asks, lifting a perfectly crafted eyebrow.

Her phone vibrates loudly on the table, disturbing the peace of the library. As she picks it up from where it was resting, glances down at it without unlocking the screen and starts gathering up her things, her smile quickly dissipates.

"Where are you going?" He asks again but quickly backtracking. Maybe he's been reading this whole thing entirely wrong. She lifts an eyebrow again and he shrugs, figuring he has nothing to lose at this point.

"Not that it's any of your business but I have to head back to work."

"On a Sunday?"

It's her turn to shrug. "Duty calls," she says over her shoulder heading for the library's entrance. He remembers that if he wants her see her again- and he does- he should probably _move._ Scrambling to his feet and nearly tripping over the desk, Rick increases his pace to catch up to her. She's relentless. He likes it. He realizes he's had that thought multiple times in the past 10 minutes.

"Wait, I don't know your name," he calls. She stops and turns to look him over.

"You didn't ask." He smirks and lifts an eyebrow, effectively asking. "Beckett. Kate Beckett."

"I like the sound of that. I'm Rick Castle. You don't need to ask, I'm volunteering the information." She blushes and ducks behind the curtain of her hair.

"Do you ever tell women you _don't_ like the sound of their name?"

"I, uh… I don't think I ever have, no. Why?"

"It's just an odd way of responding to someone's name."

"Well, just because I don't tell them I don't enjoy the sound of their name, it doesn't mean I tell every woman I _do_, which is probably the question you meant to ask."

"Is it now?" She's amused. He can tell by per posture, the way she's leaning back, comfortable, and not quite succeeding in hiding her smile. The fact that she's putting up a fight makes him set his determination higher.

"I think it is. I don't want to keep you away from work, but I'm afraid I need to ask one more question." Her eyes widen, waiting for him to finish his thought, silently granting him permission to ask. "Can I see you again, Kate?"

"See, I think that's the question you've been meaning to ask for a while." This time she doesn't hide the smirk. She's content with her answer.

"Is that a yes?"

Looking down at the pavement as if in contemplation, she narrows her eyes at him. She does that a lot, enjoys giving him a hard time. He can't say he doesn't enjoy it too. "I guess that depends on how many more questions you plan on asking."

"As many as you are willing to answer," he answers quickly. She laughs; a full throaty laugh, radiating genuine amusement. He really wants to hear it again. Hopefully not long from now. She looks up at him, a shy smile gracing her features, her eyes sparkling, mysterious.

"I think something could be arranged."

_A/N: I'd love to know what you thought._


	2. Chapter 2

Richard Castle. She just met Richard Castle at the Public Library. She silently thanks the heavens that for once it wasn't one of his books that had held her rapt attention while he'd been observing her. More like, not so subtly staring at her. It had made her uneasy at first but if she was being completely honest with herself, it was kind of endearing the way he couldn't help himself.

Kate makes her way to the scene with the address Ryan had texted her only a few minutes ago. That man had always been adept at interrupting at what always seemed to be the wrong time. She wouldn't have minded a few extra minutes with the author who helped her get over her mother's murder. Not consciously of course, but through his writing. She had found solace in his words, in his immaculate details with the complications of death and the reality of the situations. The way he wrote portrayed such accurate depictions of the thinking process involved in investigations. At the time it was truly something she could relate to, something she could lose herself in and in the meantime meant she wasn't obsessing, losing herself in her mother's case.

Not that she would ever divulge that information to him. He'd probably heard it more than a few times anyways. _Oh, your writing has changed my life; How are you so good with the details; Your work inspires me so much._

Yeah, no. She wasn't going to be fawning over him like some teenager with no cap on her feelings. He doesn't need to know about the flutters that erupted in her stomach when she realized who exactly was asking for a seat next to her.

Thinking about it now brings a closed lip smile to her face. _Richard Castle._

When she arrives at the scene Beckett heads straight to Lanie who distracts her with the details of their latest homicide. Nothing she hasn't seen before: tall, male, Caucasian, .22 caliber to the chest, no wallet or identification on him, dressed in a fitted outfit, left between a dumpster and an alley. Probably a robbery gone wrong but then again, one should never be too quick to assume.

Espo fills her in on what witnesses have let them know so far, but it seems no one recognizes the guy.

It's almost twelve when she is done talking with CSU and making notes of every last detail about the scene. Beckett sees Lanie packing up her things in the van. She debates going to talk to her friend about what happened this morning-it seems not even murder could make her forget the encounter- but she quickly sobers up. Her feelings can wait. The case should come first.

She heads for her Crown Vic instead and makes her way to the precinct.

It is getting late. Her eyes are starting to get heavy from staring at the computer monitor for so long and they are still waiting for their prints to identify the victim. She silently tells herself there is nothing left for her to do today. Tomorrow should be more productive, once they figure out who this guy is, things should go smoothly; there haven't been many complications.

Wondering if Lanie might still be in the morgue, Kate decides to take a chance and swing by on the off chance that she might catch her friend. She pushes the door open and she sees the medical examiner startle at the sound of her entrance.

"Damn girl, you scared me!"

"Sorry Lanie, I didn't know if you were still down here, I just thought I'd drop in and say hi."

"Really? I mean don't get me wrong, but I know something's on your mind. It's been written all over your face since this morning. Spill it," Lanie says bluntly.

Kate takes a seat on one of the stainless steel tables and swings her legs. She really doesn't know where she's going with this. "So, I was at the Library this morning, seeing as I was on call, and I uh… I met Richard Castle."

"You what?" Lanie exclaims, her voice getting higher.

"He came in and asked if he could sit beside me even though there were more than a dozen seats available and God, Lanie I was so surprised, my heart started beating so fast and now he probably thinks I'm really rude because I told him to stop asking questions-"

"Woah, girlfriend! Slow down. I need all the details here."

Kate took a breath, schooled her features and told Lanie about everything, from the banter to the starting and then Ryan's call and his asking to see her again.

"And what did you say?"

"Well, I kind of told him something could be arranged and then I gave him my card."

"And then?"

"And then I left."

"You left? Katherine Beckett, you tease! I'm surprised that man hasn't called you already!"

"Lanie we didn't even talk for five minutes," Kate tries to tone it down. "I mean, I don't know the man. For all I've heard, he's a ruthless playboy who gets girls and dumps them."

Lanie levels her with a look, "Let me guess, you got that from page 6."

"Yeah, but-"

"Kate… Can you even hear yourself? You're already putting up walls and you've barely even met. You haven't lived! I think you need to go out and have some fun for a change," Lanie chastised.

"Lanie, he's a celebrity. I don't need that in my life right now."

"You don't need what, exactly? Has he given you any reason to think he wants to sleep with you and then leave you hanging there?"

"No… I guess not. He was staring though," she adds loosely.

"Did it make you uncomfortable? Was he leering at you like you were something to eat for desert?"

"_Lanie!_"

"Hey, I'm just trying to clarify things! Any man who finds you attractive is going to look, Kate. Give this guy a chance. You don't even know what he wants."

"Why do you like him so much already? You haven't met him either," Kate questions.

"I've heard you talk about Richard Castle until my ears bled. And now you've met him and he wants to see you again and you're going to go if he calls. Which he will, by the way."

"How do you know that?"

Lanie scoffs, "Have you looked in the mirror lately? Also, if that banter was half as sexy as you described, he'll call."

Kate blushes under her friends gaze and lets a smile break through. "Fine, if he calls, I'll go."

She hops off the desk and heads for the double doors of the morgue. She sees Lanie shake her head and smile from her peripheral vision. "I'll see you tomorrow for those prints, Lanie!" She calls on her way out.

Back at her apartment, Kate drops her keys by the table at the door, taking off her coat as soon as she steps through the door. Making her way to her bedroom, she realizes she's completely at a loss as to what she should expect. It isn't every day you meet your favorite author in the library and he asks for your number, so, no, she has no idea what she should conclude from this brief interlude. Seeing as it's a week night and they have an on-going case at the precinct, Kate decides it is too late to draw a bath and heads for the shower instead.

She washes her hair with her favorite cherry-scented shampoo; it restores her confidence. Funny how your sense of smell can do that; drown out what you are feeling only to be left with the oddest of sensations at times. Richard Castle hasn't even contacted her yet and he is already making her uneasy.

Why is this such a big deal, anyway? Granted, he_ is _her favorite author, but meeting him should have taken off the edge. They've spoken. The spell should be broken, the illusion of a gap between the two of them due to the differences in their lives shouldn't still be lingering. And yet, at the oddest of times during the day she was met with this sudden pang in her chest as if she was right back there at the library. It's silly. She knows it is.

Ignoring her body's refute, Kate turns off the scalding water, towels off and heads back towards her bedroom. She puts on a pair of leggings and a loose purple night shirt. Pulling back the comforter with the idea that she is done for the day, Kate lets out a sigh and allows her body to relax into the mattress. She can almost feel the stress seeping out of her and pouring into the mattress. Before she lets her eyes close for good, she figures she should set her alarm for the next morning. Her internal clock is pretty good from her early days at the precinct, but you can never be too careful.

That's when she sees it. She has a text message from an unknown number.

**A/N: Hoping you still like it. I'm planning on this being a multi-chapter fic, I hope you stick with me! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_Who is the recipient of this message? _Kate reads as she unlocks her phone, her stomach somersaulting at the mere prospect of it being Richard Castle.

Huh. Why would someone texting you ask that? If they had your number, they should know who they are contacting. It strikes her as odd.

She types in a quick reply, not wanting to divulge information about herself. You can never be too careful these days. _Who's asking?_

Her phone chimes immediately: _I believe I asked first._

Well then. She admits it starts off the conversation quite bizarrely, however it's starting to resemble the kind of conversation they had this morning. She decides to assume it's him and back him into a corner.

_Is this you making up for not asking the first question this morning?_ If it _is_ him, and he is really inquiring whether she is the person on the other end of the line, then by her response he should get all the answers he needs.

As she waits for his response, her phone rings, alerting her that she is getting a call from the same number that has been texting her. Tentatively she answers.

"Hello?" She decides to forgo her usually clipped way of answering with_ Beckett_ because she still isn't sure what to make of this.

"Ah, so it is you," she recognizes the rich sound of his voice. It's him. Grinning, she decides to tease him some more.

"And who is 'me', exactly?" She hears him chuckle on the other side of the line.

"Rick. Rick Castle. Listen I'm sorry I might have creeped you out with the way I started my message but I wanted to make sure you hadn't given me a bogus number. And then if it wasn't you and I was texting some random stranger, then I didn't want to divulge any personal information, I mean it could have gotten pretty messy with the -"

"It's okay Castle," she interrupts, a smile blooming from her lips, "I get it. But just so you know, you are technically texting and calling a complete stranger."

"I'd prefer to use the term acquaintance for now, but I'm hoping we can remedy such an impersonal term in the near future. And also, Castle?" He tries not to be too forward with her because scaring her off is not an option right now. He tells himself she probably isn't in a relationship, otherwise she wouldn't have given him his number and certainly wouldn't have accepted his call at 10pm, but maybe that's all wishful thinking.

She chuckles before answering, "Comes with the job."

"Speaking of which, tell me, what line of work calls someone in at 11 o'clock on a Sunday morning?"

"I don't know Castle; this might not be the kind of information that's appropriate to share with an acquaintance. I'm rather private about my life." He can certainly work with that; mysterious and teasing. Somehow its comes out anything but cliché. It's sexy. There's nothing better, in his opinion.

"I'll take that as an invitation to guess." He pauses for a second and waits to see if she has any objections. He thinks back to their earlier conversation, which isn't so hard to do when he'd been mulling over every second he could remember throughout the entirety of the day, trying –unsuccessfully- to convince himself that calling her five minutes after she gave him her card was inappropriate. "You're witty and sarcastic, characteristics that require fast thinking and association; making connections. You like to read which suggests a high intellect, especially considering the genre, if I do say so myself." Encouraged that she hums on the other side of the line, he forges on. "You're from the city, I can tell that by your accent and, again, judging by your choice in books, my best bet would be something law oriented. Something that keeps your mind stimulated." He pauses and she takes the opportunity to pitch- in.

"You know Castle, it's great that you think you've got me figured out but I'm still not hearing a theory," she challenges, quirking her eyebrow even though no one is here to see. She considers the solitude of her apartment and sighs a little. Though talking to him distracts her momentarily.

"Lawyer? CIA? Secret Service? Oh, wait- FBI?" He blurts out in a sting of options. She lets out a startled laugh at his over active imagination, though she knows she should have expected no less.

"This isn't a Bond movie, Castle," she tells him, in a playful yet condescending tone. "That all you've got?"

"I'll have you know, I enjoy a good challenge," he teases her back and she finds the back of her hand covering her smile. She thanks whatever power up there that he isn't here to see this, because she doesn't know if she could keep the lid on her emotions, something at which she's currently failing miserably. "I'm going to say no to the lawyer because, your clothes didn't fit."

"Excuse me?" She asks in an incredulous tone that's only just to throw him off, because really she knows what he means but she already really enjoys rattling him. And it works.

"No, I mean- I didn't. Okay. Why do I feel like I'm putting my foot in my mouth?" He asks sounding guilty. It's exactly what she was aiming for. "I'm not going to lie, Kate, you looked beautiful today. You had a white blouse on and fitting dress pants that accentuated her your- I'm digressing," he cuts himself off mid-sentence and she finds herself blushing at finding out that he remembers so vividly what she was wearing- that he was picturing her in her clothes and how they fit her as he was describing them to her. He continues, "All I was alluding to was that your outfit spoke comfort and authority. Not power and riches, as, generally, a lawyers' would."

"Hmm. Nice save there, Castle."

"Why thank you, detective."

Wait. How did he-

"That's pretty presumptuous of you, ."

"Ah, but the question is, am I right?"

She bites her lip, don't want to give in so easily but sees no other option. She isn't going to lie to him and he _did _guess after all, she'll give him that.

"You are," she states lamely, still a little shocked that he figured her out so quickly. Is she that much of an open book? She's never thought of herself as someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, but she's always made it a point not to be too distinctly recognizable in a crowd. She hears Castle shout a loud exclamatory "Yes!" on the receiving end of her phone and she laughs a little, figuring that he probably wasn't sure of his own deductive reasoning skills at all.

"It suits you. The title… I don't know. It just makes you that much more mysterious." He comments.

"I'm not sure anyone's first adjective to describe be has ever been mysterious, but I'll take it as a compliment."

"I'll have you know, _detective_," he emphasizes the title, "that the first adjective I audibly used to describe you, not mere minutes ago, was beautiful, but mysterious suits you just as well."

She refuses to comment on that, because she'll only end up embarrassing herself, if the blush that is heating her cheeks and the smile that threatens to split her face open are any indication.

"I'm quite perplexed by the use of 'audibly', in your last sentence. Is there something you aren't saying?" She says, failing to muffle her yawn. It _has _been a big day.

"Oh, so many things, detective, so many things," he teases. "But we'll leave that for another day, you seem tired." She can feel him grinning by the tone of his voice. It makes her smile widen.

"Yeah, today has been pretty busy," she adds by way of explanation.

"But don't think you're off the hook, Kate. I _will_ see you again. And next time, hopefully for more than a five minute conversation," he tells her confidently.

"You seem pretty sure about that Castle. Are you certain the feeling is mutual?" She teases just to bring his ego down to Earth.

"If the curve of your lips and the lovely blush that splattered itself across your cheeks was any indication, I'd say it's mutual." She opens her mouth, gaping a little at his boldness, her mind blank. What the hell do you say to _that_? "Until tomorrow, Kate. Sleep well," he says and then he hangs up.

Still reeling from the depiction he brought to her attention, Kate sets her phone on her night stand to charge and leans back against her pillows. Her last thoughts before she drifts off to sleep bring blood rushing to her cheeks, but for entirely different reasons. It involved one Richard Castle and his skillful way with words.

**A/N: We are going to assume that card only had her name and number on it. Pretty please? Thanks. Reviews are love ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

Castle hangs up the phone, sets it on his night stand and rubs a hand over his face in an attempt to regain some sort of composure. He honestly can't remember the last time talking to a woman on the phone got him so riled up; if there ever was a time. There is just something about Kate Beckett; the way she won't divulge information about herself even though she has probably figured out who he is by now- if she didn't already know. Or maybe it's the way she walked away from him after giving him her number, her hips swaying a tad more than strictly necessary.

The woman was enchanting. And not simply for her good looks- although she is astonishingly stunning. No, this is about her wit, her charm, her way with words. He's the author but he's rarely met someone with the ability to leave him speechless and walk away totally unaffected. Okay- well, maybe she wasn't _completely _unaffected; at least, that's what he'd like to think. He's pretty sure the words he left her with on the phone at least hit a nerve considering she never managed to get a word out before he ended the call.

But that's another thing. This verbal swordplay most-definitely wasn't one sided. It keeps him alert; on his toes. He feels alive, feels the exhilaration down to the pit of his stomach. He can't wait to see her again or talk to her. And somehow he knows that this isn't about the thrill of the chase. This is something more, and maybe it's his over imaginative writer's brain, or maybe it's just his lack of intimacy with anyone in a while but he knows that this is something special. It's there. It was there the moment he laid eyes on her in the library, and again when he tested out her number to make sure she wasn't simply getting rid of him this morning.

Castle sits on his bed, ready to call it a night but not quite ready to part with the enchantment Kate Beckett has set upon him. He chides himself and figures it's a bit pathetic to be thinking such things. After two failed marriages, he should know better than to be daydreaming about women and their hold on his frail little heart. He should be more guarded. "Should" being the operative word here. But the thing is, he was. He was until Kate Beckett waltz into his life this morning and for some reason she's a game changer. His head tells him to tread precariously, that this very well could end up in smithereens, but for some reason his heart is telling him to push.

If he's being completely honest with himself, he's tired of women coming up to him asking him to sign their chests in a weak attempt to get him to bed. He doesn't even know what they see in him anymore. He's always thought of himself as handsome; ruggedly handsome, even. But lately all people want are his money, Gina wants his words –ultimately for money as well-, and others don't even pretend that they only want to have a good time.

But he's had his good time. He's so done with a 'good time'. He wants something real. Something that will create a stable home for his 15 year old daughter. Something he'll look forward to waking up to in the morning. And he has a feeling Kate Beckett could be that person. Or maybe not. Maybe he's totally jumping the boat. But at least she has made him realize something today. He knows what he wants. He just hopes that what he wants includes her.

Having rid himself of all his clothes and settled in for the night, Rick finally lets his head fall to the pillow. Funny how life sometimes throws things your way with perfect timing. Sure, sometimes it leaves you stranded. But sometimes… Sometimes it gives you something to work with.

She wakes with a head ache and her alarm blaring from her night stand. Reaching out sluggishly to turn it off, she rolls over. Sighing, she realizes she has to get to work to get those prints from Lanie and hopefully the boys have something for her. Otherwise they are still waiting for results from CSU and they are left with paperwork. She digs the palm of her hands over her eyes until she sees stars behind her eyelids. Exhaling and letting her hands fall back to her side, Kate figures she's done enough moping for the day that lies ahead and rolls out of bed. She takes a quick shower and heads to the precinct without breakfast after realizing that everything in her fridge is long past overdue. Yeah, she's going to have to stop by the grocery store tonight and maybe get rid of that takeout temple on top of her fridge, especially if she wants to have Rick over-

Woah. Where did that thought even come from?

She needs to back it up. They don't even know each other. They are getting there and he has certainly shown an interest in… getting there, but since when did having him over become a thought that suddenly pops into her mind? She met him yesterday. This should not be happening so quickly. She needs to slow things down a little.

The doors of the elevator open on the homicide floor and she strides toward her desk and drops to her chair. Running a hand through her hair, Kate wonders why she's making things so complicated. Because he's Richard Castle? Because she hasn't dated anyone in over a year? Are they even dating?

Okay- No, stop. This is getting way out of hand. First off, they met yesterday, and he has given her zero reason to panic. She's reading way too much into this. Secondly, she has a murder to solve. She opens her computer and heads to the break room, figuring she is in deep need of caffeine.

Taking a sip as she moves back towards her desk, Kate cringes; she really needs to start getting her coffee somewhere else in the morning because this one is certainly not cutting it for her. Ryan and Espo enter the precinct at the exact same time and she decides to give them ca couple of minutes before asking them for an update.

Kate hears her phone buzz from her coat pocket and looks down to find a text from Lanie telling her she can come down for her prints when she has minute. She once again gets up from her desk and walks past the boys: "Morning. Let me know when you know if we've got something," she tells them as she heads down to the morgue.

"You're not usually so eager to give me my prints," Kate tells Lanie, entering the morgue with a smirk.

"Yeah, well I want news on Writer Boy. There. I said it," Lanie replies as if not proud that she's very curious to know what happened last night. When Kate doesn't answer she tries again: "So?"

Kate chuckles: "He called," she says shyly, looking down at the floor and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I told you he would! That's great, Kate," She says giving her friends hand an encouraging squeeze. When Kate doesn't meet her eyes, Lanie gets a bit nervous, "It's good, right?"

"Yeah… It is. I just get the feeling that I'm over thinking this, you know? I mean, I know we've had this conversation yesterday, but he's Richard Castle; what could he possibly see in me?" On a whim, she voices her insecurities. This is _so_ not like her. She doesn't like people knowing she's not as strong as she usually pretends to be. She's come to terms with dealing with things on her own. She really doesn't understand why a meeting is changing things around so much.

"Sweetie, it's okay to be nervous. Just don't close yourself off; you have so much to give. And Richard Castle better see that or I'm gonna have a couple of words with him." Kate lets out a laugh and gives Lanie a hug. Her friend gives good hugs. As they separate, Kate's phone chimes alerting her to a new text message. She unlocks her phone and sees a new text. From him. She bites her bottom lip, fighting a smile as she opens the text.

_Morning detective. I hear cops have a penchant for donuts. Or maybe just coffee? Let me know if you're interested if you happen to have time for a break. _

Her bottom lip escapes her teeth and her smile blossoms. She sees Lanie grinning at her but she surprisingly stays quiet.

"Okay, well I'm doing to head back up, thanks for the prints," Kate tells her, tampering down her smile, "I'll call you later if we get anything."

"Yeah, you better," Lanie calls after her, as she passes through the double doors.

There is still nothing by lunch time and the prints Lanie got for her had no match in the system. It's twelve thirty and she's starving, hasn't eaten anything all morning and there are still a couple of butterflies looming in her stomach from Castle's text. She wants to see him, but she thinks maybe it's too soon.

But her other option is to go out for lunch alone and it's not as alluring as it once was. Especially with an invitation from Richard Castle in her pocket.

Oh, what the hell. She texts him back.

_I have time for lunch in 20. There's a coffee shop on the corner of the 12__th__ Precinct. I'll be there. _

There. If he wants to meet with her, he knows where she'll be. That's good enough for her.

He's been waiting in the coffee shop for five minutes, and was out the door the second he got her text. So when the door opens and hits the little bell above it, signaling a new customer, he looks up excitedly, only to be unprepared for the sight that greets him. It's Kate. She's wearing navy dress pants and a matching blazer to cover her white blouse. She looks good. Really good. Her hair is pulled back in a tight pony tail and its feminine. It also makes find her way more attractive than it should. He smiles at her and gets up from his chair, waving her over. "Detective," he greets, "you don't give a man much time to ponder meeting with you."

"What else has a writer got to do?" she retorts, raising an eyebrow.

He laughs at that. "Point taken," he concedes as he pulls out her chair.

A young waitress comes over and asks them if they'd like anything. Castle takes note as she politely asks for a Grande skim latte, two pumps of sugar free vanilla and a bear claw. She knows what she likes and for some reason it's all the more alluring.

"So does your being here mean you don't have a case?" He asks when the waitress leaves them.

"Normally, it would, but it's been a particularly slow day and we are still waiting for results on ballistics and CSU. I figured a lunch break wouldn't hurt," she smirks.

"Homicide, huh? Kind of a strange coincidence that we both solve murders."

Kate laughs, "In your head , you solve murders in your head. I deal with real victims; I think there is a distinction to be made."

"Hmm, true. So why homicide? Why a cop?" He can't help himself. He wants to know everything. He's oblivious to the way her eyes cloud over at the question.

"Are you questioning my ability to choose a profession?" She deters.

That is in no way what he meant. "No! But after our brief conversation yesterday I could already tell you could have been anything you wanted. I'm just looking for the story," he offers with what he hopes is a sympathetic smile. This time he sees it, the reluctance in her eyes, the way she's not quite making eye contact and doesn't seem all that comfortable. Shit. Wrong question then.

"A story for another day," she answers, this time looking up at him with a fierce look in her eyes, one that tells him her decision is final and that topic is off limits. He needs to make this better.

"Yeah, I guess I never told Alexis the details of my job either. I mean, she knows what I do, but I don't always like the idea of exposing her to that world either. It's a rough world we live in." He hopes he somewhat steered the conversation away from what was making her uncomfortable.

He notices her posture relax a little. He's glad. "Who's Alexis?"

He smiles, never one to shy away from bragging about his beautiful girl. "She's my daughter. Fifteen now." He hands her his phone to show her his lock screen and picture of the two of them.

"She looks beautiful, Castle," She smiles at him and it warms his heart a little. He would never regret Alexis but sometimes a kid can make things complicated in a relationship. One thing is sure however, they are a package deal, so he finds it's better to get that out there as soon as possible, seeing as he's so enthralled with Kate already.

"Yeah, she's great. Couldn't ask for a better kid. I definitely lucked out." He looks down, suddenly a little overwhelmed by the truth of it. He _was_ lucky. Doing it all on his own could have been a lot worse.

"I'm sure you were a great Dad," she tells him reassuringly. He sees her reaching for his hand across the table and the contact startles them both; its electric, current zapping all the way up his arm. She quickly pulls back and looks down at her plate, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He wishes he could do it for her but reasons it's probably a little too soon. Yeah, definitely too soon.

Kate's phone rings and she looks at him apologetically. He shrugs and motions for her to go ahead. She brings it up to her ear and answers, "Beckett." For some reason that's hot. Maybe he should start answering his phone like that. Okay, maybe not, but it takes nothing away from how taken he is with her. She's still talking with someone and he can't help but be disappointed when she says, "Oh, okay. Yeah, thanks Espo, I'll be right there."

She puts her phone back in her pocket and looks up at him. "I'm sorry, but we just got our results and I'm going to have to head back." He gets up with a gentle smile on his face. It's not her fault she needs to keep the city safe. And the thought of her out there catching killers gets his synapses firing with all kinds of literary material.

He grabs her coat from behind her chair before she can slip it on and holds it out for her. He may be bold but he isn't going to let her leave without so much as another touch. He can see she half attempts to glare at him but the smile pulling at the corner of her lips makes it hard to be hurt.

"You do realize I'm more than capable of putting on a coat, right?" Her eye roll is adorable.

"Humor me."

She turns her back to him and slips her arms into the sleeves, his fingers brushing all the way up to her shoulders ever through the soft cotton of her blouse. He catches her slight shiver and grins, glad that his earlier assessment of her being at least slightly affected wasn't wrong. He gets a whiff of her smell as she pulls her hair from behind her collar and he wants to smell it again. He doesn't think it's perfume, but rather her shampoo.

"You smell like cherries," he states dumbly.

She turns her body to look at him, seemingly a little startled by his confession. She blushes slightly and he can't get over how beautiful her eyes are. He shouldn't be thinking about kissing her because it's way, way, way too soon but now the idea is in his head and she's leaning in and-

Her lips hit his cheek, the barest of pressures and then she's gone. He gets a hit of the smell again as she turns towards the door quickly and it's heavenly. He wishes he could store it, capture it somehow. He's left stunned but when she turns around at the door to look at him and gives him a timid smile, he finds his motor skills are once again operational and he waves with a smile.

He has to admit, he's more than a little smitten with Kate Beckett.

**A/N: I absolutely love the responses from all of you! Thank you for your continued support!**


	5. Chapter 5

She kissed him. She still can't believe she kissed him. On the cheek but still.

But that was five days ago and she hasn't heard from him since. Well, okay that's not exactly true, he texted her, but she was in the middle of a case so she never texted back. And then it felt awkward to text him later after she had kind of ignored him. And then she kind of panicked. She hasn't texted him since their lunch and she wants to, finds that she sort of craves it, which is weird in and of itself, considering their texting is a rather recent development. But meeting and getting to know Rick has been weird from the start.

And since when is it Rick?

The mysticism of his celebrity persona is gone now, replaced by a kind and intriguing man that seems to be taken with her for some reason. She still doesn't get it. Why he wants to get to know her as bad as he does. It probably has to do with the fact that he _doesn't_ know her, doesn't know her secrets, doesn't know her past. There was no way she was telling him she became a cop and then later a homicide detective because her mother was murdered at that diner. He probably would have gone running for the hills. He said himself he wanted to keep his kid away from the madness and the cruelty of this world. And here she is, bringing it straight to their doorstep.

Does she even have the right to be in a relationship? Because, sure, everyone has baggage, but enter a woman who puts her life on the line every day, who has a damaged heart which she doesn't know if she can keep unguarded, and whose mothers murder was never solved; that is not what she would deem girlfriend material. And although he never said he wanted a relationship, it was written all over his face when she looked at him after giving him that kiss. The awe, the joy, radiating off of him was palpable. She wishes she could be the source of it, but she's afraid of creating too much damage in the process.

So here she is, they've been working on a case for the past five days, and she itches to reach out to him but reasons that it's probably in his best interest if she doesn't. He'll move on anyway, it's not as though they have anything. Well, that's not exactly true; they do have something, because the electricity derived from the touch of his fingers is still coursing through her veins, but the point is, they aren't anything. They aren't exclusive and she can still get out now. She hasn't hurt anyone and she doesn't intend to. This is the safer route for everyone.

But this case. Ugh. This case might just be the death of her because dammit, she's _stuck_.

Another coffee. Another coffee is what she needs right now.

She hasn't texted him all week. He doesn't want to push. He sent her a text earlier this week but she never responded so he figured she was busy with a case or something. But then a day turned into five and he feels pathetic. Doesn't he at least deserve a text back? Even if she isn't interested, which he highly doubts given the fact that he can still feel the imprint of her kiss on his cheek, he thinks he at least deserves to be notified so he can cut his losses.

He had told himself that he wanted real. And he's prepared to fight for that, but only if there's something to fight for. Real isn't a one way street, and so far he's been making all the advances. The thing is, she'd been responding in kind to these advances; prompting them even. So why shut him out now?

He remembers quite vividly the terrified look in her eyes when he asked about why she became a homicide detective. He feels like maybe he pushed too far. And yet, isn't that the kind of question you ask someone if you want to get to know them, want to find out what makes them tick?

Because he does. He wants to know everything he can learn about her. If anything, finding out how closed off she is about such a subject only makes him more determined to figure her out, to earn her trust, to be the person she opens up to. And if that makes him crazy, then so be it. The hell with what everyone thinks. Well, except for Alexis; she would have a say in the matter. Speaking of his beloved daughter, she should be entering the loft at any moment from school.

As he's checking his watch, he hears the front door open and he makes his way towards the kitchen from his office to see her.

"Hey Pumpkin, how was your day?"

"It was good dad, Paige and I were put together for a project in bio, and at least I know I can rely on her, so this will be a good thing," she tells him while he bends down to press a kiss to her hair.

"I'm glad sweetie, I'm sure you'll make a great team. So anything out of the ordinary today? Flying objects? Discover any vampires? Oh- a visit from space cowboys?"

"Life isn't a sci-fi movie, Dad. It was just an ordinary day."

Rick grumbles at that and ruffles her hair. "But it'd be so much cooler! It's bound to happen. You better let me know the day aliens abduct someone in your school."

Alexis rolls her eyes but grins at his antiques. "You'll be the first person I call, Dad."

He smiles at his little girl. She's grown so much.

A loud commotion outside the door gets both of their attention and they turn towards the source. A dramatic voice ensues and they both look at each other and grin.

"Grams."

"Mother."

They both say at the same time. They rush towards the door, Alexis giggling in front of him, and come face to face with Martha, who has dropped several of her shopping bags and looks at a loss concerning how to pick them up.

"Hello Mother, looks like someone has already spent their monthly allowance," he states, giving Alexis a poignant look. The girl giggles and his Mother scoffs.

"Nonsense, Richard. There was a huge sale. Now help me get these up to my room, I raised you to be more chivalrous than that."

He has a retort on the tip of his tongue but Alexis' laughter stops him. Fine. He can be the bigger person.

Later that night he sits on the couch with his respective two fingers of scotch and thinks again of Kate. He's at a loss. Usually a lack of contact would give him the impression to take a hint. But he just isn't feeling it with her. He doesn't want to give up. Realizing that there is a great chance that giving up might be the next step regardless of what he would like, he sighs.

"Richard, you've been moping all night. Don't think I didn't see it. You did a good enough job to hide it from Alexis but a mother always knows. This looks like women trouble," he hears his mother say as she sits on the opposite end of the couch. Maybe advice _would_ be in order. Even from his mother.

"One woman in question. How easily do you give up on developing a relationship with someone?"

"How well do you know this girl, Richard?"

"We haven't known each other for all that long," he answers sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "but it's the first time I feel… any sort of remote potential with anyone. Maybe it's just me, maybe I just don't want to let that go. She hasn't reached out all week even after I sent her a text."

"Tell you what, give her one more chance. But if there's anything I've learned from acting, it's to take a cue. So if she doesn't reach out after that, I suggest you bow out gracefully."

He mulls it over. She does have a point. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'll make his move and if she doesn't show any kind of response, he'll let her go.

"Thank you, Mother," he says as he stands from the couch and is ready to call it a night.

**A/N: I apologize for the longer wait. I hope all of you had wonderful holidays. Let me know what you think! **


	6. Chapter 6

He goes through his evening routine, prepared to at least attempt to put it out of his mind; to put Kate out of his mind but just as every other night this week, he finds it to be quite the challenging task. She's just so… maddening.

But honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way. He's seen her only twice but it's enough for him to have gathered that she's feisty. It's part of who she is. And he likes who she is, or what he's caught glimpses of so far at least. If it's a little time she needs, then a little time she'll get. He's always found himself to be quite receptive of what others have wanted in the past and he's not planning on being any different with her. She deserves time if that's what she desires.

Having showered, slipped into a comfortable pair of boxers and brushed his teeth, he heads toward his bed. He sits on the edge and moves to plug in his phone on his night stand when it buzzes in his hand. He looks down at the screen and finds Kate's name, unfortunately with no picture yet, and is stunned. She's calling him now? At – he looks up on his phone's screen- half past 10 o'clock?

He feels his stomach clench at the thought of talking to her again. She's reaching out. And he's not stupid enough to ignore this call. He presses his thumb to accept her incoming call and brings the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?" He answers tentatively. She hears her breathing on the other side of the line. Not a creepy "I just wanted to hear your voice" kind of breathing but one that expresses some sort of relief.

"Hey, Castle, it's me," she answers, her voice soft and what he thinks is a little timid.

His unfiltered mind thinks he likes bashful Kate Beckett. "Detective, you do realize that had I not put your phone number in my contacts I might not have a clue who you meant by 'me'," he teased gently. She answers on the next beat, her answer coming instinctively.

"Well, my first assumption was that you don't have many people who call you after ten and who also call you 'Castle', and the second was that someone who prides himself on his deduction skills, such as you, would be more than capable of putting two and two together. That is _if _you hadn't entered my phone number into your contacts. Which you did." Castle chuckles.

"Hm, touché, detective," he answers, grinning. He waits her out, figures that she called for a purpose other than to hear his ruggedly handsome voice. He pulls back the comforter over his bed with one hand, the other still holding the phone to his ear and settles in.

"Are you in bed?" she inquires.

"Yeah, I just got in, why?"

"Oh, well I didn't mean to bother you, I mean I knew it was late but I-" She cuts herself off, probably deciding not to say whatever was about to fly out of her mouth. He waits her out, doesn't want to pressure her. "I shouldn't have called, I'm sorry-"

This time it's he who cuts her off. "Kate." She stops talking. He starts again, his voice softer, "Kate, you aren't bothering me, I need you to know that." He tells her this slowly, imploring her to grasp the full meaning of his words, that her bothering him is the farthest thing from his mind at the moment. "And I really would like to hear whatever you had decided to tell me when you called tonight." He tells her this on a whim of honesty, because he truly does want to hear it; wants to hear whatever she has to say about anything and everything. He realizes then that smitten really is the accurate word to describe what he feels for her right now. He's in awe of her, and he's definitely not letting her off this easily, won't let her hang up now. Not after she made the first move, not after she was the one to reach out despite his having resolved to giving this – whatever it is- one last shot.

"Right. I uh-" he hears her clear her throat, seemingly finding it hard to talk about whatever this is. "I guess I'm not very good at this, I just…" She trails off. Rick wonders if she is trying to let him down easy. His chest hurts with it but he's not about to force her into anything. He decides to give her an out, make things easier for her, considering how difficult she appears to be finding this.

"Look Kate, I would understand if you're not interested. I never meant to make this hard for you and I'm sorry if you ever felt pressured to get into any of this. Just, say the word if, um," he's suddenly fighting against an intense pressure in his throat but he needs to get these last words out, "Just tell me if this isn't what you want."

He hears her take a deep breath and he figures she appreciates him letting her out of _this_, whatever it even was. He chides himself for being too forward, for reading her wrong, for getting his hopes up.

"Rick, you've got it all wrong. Look the thing is I'm just… I'm terrified." He sucks in a deep breath, his lungs suddenly in grave need of oxygen. "I don't think I'm a good person to be with, I don't think I'm… someone you want to get involved with. And I'm scared." She's whispering now and he's holding on to every word, listening as attentively as he's ever listened to anyone. He doesn't miss how carefully she's choosing her words, how she's filtering herself. "And the thing is, I thought I could just pull myself away and keep everyone at bay, and I did. I did for a good while. But now you're here and suddenly this is something I want, but I'm scared, Castle. I'm scared because I have no idea how I'm even telling you this. I'm not the sharing type. You just-" She stops on an exhale but also appears to be out of breath. A paradox but to him it makes perfect sense. Her words are like a balm to the wounds he didn't know were open. "And I'm sorry I didn't answer your text or call you back but I've been having trouble dealing with what this all means, but you deserved an answer. That's actually all I called to say. That last part. I don't know why all that other stuff came out. God, I sound like such an idiot." She huffs out a self-deprecating laugh and he wishes he could hold her close, tell her she's being silly and reassure her with the weight of his arms around her.

"It's killing me knowing that all this has been stressing you out. I don't want to be that person. I want to be there to alleviate that pressure, not causing some more. Kate, I don't expect anything from you that you don't want to give. And no, you don't sound like an idiot, you sound like someone who has a lot on their mind. And I'm here to listen if you want me to be." He hopes it's what she wants to hear, hopes he isn't pushing in the wrong direction.

God, he wants to see her. Suddenly doesn't want to be having this conversation over the phone.

"Kate. I wish I could see you right now."

"Is that your way of coming on to me, Castle?" He can hear the smile in her voice and his body responds in kind, seemingly in sync with hers.

"I'll have you know, Miss Beckett, that I did not mean it like that, but you're free to interpret it how you like," he adds that last part for his own benefit. She laughs and mentally taps himself on the shoulder, proud to have distracted her from all this confliction.

"And just so you know, it's not a bad stress per se, this… confliction. It's just hard to deal with, which I guess is the nature of the very word," she tells him.

"Is that your way of telling me I'm not as much of a burden as dead bodies?" He asks going for light.

"It's my way of telling you that your advances aren't necessarily unwanted," she counters, her voice clear but barely above a whisper and wow. His chest is having all kinds of reactions to this woman's words tonight but he can't say that this one is all that unpleasant. She isn't saying no. She likes him. She hasn't said it in so many words, more like in subtext but he's grown rather adept at reading between the lines, being a writer and all. Like his mother told him tonight, he can take a cue.

"I had a good time at that diner over coffee the other day, you know. I wouldn't mind seeing you again." He goes for smooth but misses the target.

"Is there a question in there?" She asks, but he can practically feel her amusement.

"I thought the implications were pretty clear," he teases.

"I don't know Castle, I thought we'd been over this. Questions warrant answers. Now, statements are different."

"If I didn't know any better detective, I'd think you were flirting with me using grammar," he states proudly, a smile touching his lips.

"Isn't that the way to a writer's heart?"

He can practically hear her beating herself up as soon as the words leave her mark. She practically stops breathing. He lets her off easy "Nah, I'm a man, still through the stomach. Though I will admit that having you as my high school English teacher would have made things a _lot _more interesting." She laughs and he decides that he wants to hear more of that sound. It's addictive.

"Don't use me to fuel your teenage fantasies, Castle," she chides but she can tell she isn't annoyed, just teasing.

"Who said anything about _teenage _fantasies? You, in a pencil skirt, with a low cut blouse-"

"Castle!" She cuts him off and they are both laughing.

"I'm just saying."

They go silent for a moment but it isn't awkward. He wants to see her again but doesn't want to ask for a second time. He told her he wouldn't push too hard and he intends to keep his word on that. After a beat she starts up again.

"So. I'm going to indulge your poor use of grammar and answer your previous statement, something totally unnecessary by the way, and say that I would like to see you again as well."

His mind stutters at the idea that she might be in his head. How are they so in sync? He finds he doesn't care, and relishes her last confession.

"So did you have anything in mind when you said you'd like to see me again, ?" she asks in a teasing tone. Why does the use of his last name sound so sexy coming out of her mouth. He wants to see her and kiss her and honestly this woman has made him completely mad. But he forges on.

"Uh, well, come to think of it, I know Forbidden Planet is playing at the Angelika tomorrow night. Would you mind indulging my poor grammar once again in an exchange for a night out?" He teases.

"Hm, that sounds like a fair bargain," she tells him as though she's uninterested, but he knows better. This woman does things to him.

"Great, I could pick you up at six?"

"Sure, I'll text you my address."

"I'll be waiting," he tells her and wishes he could kiss her cheek or take her hand. Something platonic, something that would show her she means something to him already.

"Goodnight, Castle."

"Until tomorrow, Kate."

He presses the end button on the tactile screen of his phone and can't wipe the grin off his face as he plugs it in to charge and settles back into bed. They have a date.

**A/N: Reviews are love! Thanks for reading! Also, just letting you all know that school will be starting soon so updates might not be as regular, however, I promise I am not done writing this story. I am loving your enthusiasm! **


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